Mother Machine
by Auron The Brave
Summary: They thought they had finished the Universal Cosmic Destroyer, but they had only momentarily stopped it. Now, thirty years later, the world must save itself from Pokey and his new leader, The Machine. R and R.
1. A farmer

Disclamier: I wish owned Earthbound, but Nintendo does.

**Authots Note: Ok, my last Earthbound fic didn't work out. But this one will. And you read, or you die.  
**

Tired old hands slowly felt the dusty cover of an ancient book. Though the bearer of these hands did not read it. Instead he sat, and waited. A shotgun was in his left palm, as he rocked back and forth in the wooden chair. He looked over at the book, feeling a golden lower-case t on the cover. The Holy Bible. One of the last copies that weren't destroyed with all the others books.

The old man look across his farm. Nothing so far. Only the night sky and his crops. No one would get his cows tonight. If they tried, they would have a bullet in their forehead. He would make sure of that. Now that the Police force had been disbanded, (or truthfully destroyed by the Pig Masked ones) he would administer his own force of justice.

He scanned the fields. His barn was in sight, so no one would sneak into it. He had taken every precaution. They were his cows, and his only.

His stood up on his porch, rubbing his eyes. This was tough work. But as he rubbed, he saw a shift in the shadows. Instantly, his shotgun was in his hands. His scanned the field again, waiting. Then, another spark of movement. Alarmed, he raised his shotgun and fired a warning shot. Then, he lifted a lantern he had on the ground, and cast the light into the shadows.

He saw something emerge into the light. Feet first, then a black sweatshirt. They were short, so they were probably some hoodlum. He didn't care. He would blast their head off.

But then it fully stepped into the orange light. The hooded figure bore a mask. It was broken with age. He had seen it too many times. In his visions he had seen it. A pig mask.

Without hesitation the farmer cocked his shotgun and fired at the masked face. The bullet sped forward, colliding with its target and momentarily stunning it. Yes, it was barely affected as it stood back up. It had made no noise. For it was obvious now it was not human. Because the bullet had broken the mask and revealed the monster's true face. A toothy skull grinned back at the poor farmer.

Some things in this world are unexplainable. This skeletal figure was one of them. The farmer, who just wanted to protect his cattle, had come across something that few dare to look at in the eyes. Death. Though more in a metaphorical way. For in reality, the toothy hooded figure was just a minion of a higher power. But to the farmer it was Death, for he knew it was the end for him. Why did he have to protect his cattle? He wish he had been less grumpy in life.

The figure reached forward and pulled the gun away from the stunned and scared old man. And, without any effort, bent the shotgun into a metal pretzel. HE dropped it onto the porch, and it made a clanking noise.

Then Death reached a white palm for the old man's forehead. It spoke in a boy's voice. "You're a waste of meat you old man. Im doing a service for the world."

The old man could only utter two words in his fear. "The Machine."

The skull-faced boy snapped the fingers of his free palm, and a fiery explosion shot from the hand grasping the old man's head. He screamed in pain, and fell back to the porch. The lantern rolled next to his face. His burned face. Burned to his skull.

The Machine.


	2. A boy

**NOTE: Its getting interesting...**

Jesse slowly brought the last bit of steak to his mouth. He needed to savor it, for he wouldn't have more for a while. A long while.

They ate in silence. He and his mother slowly ate off of paper plates and used plastic forks. The room was dimly lit, only one light above their heads swinging back and forth.

He looked up at his mother. Her face was very pretty, but tired. Her blonde hair had streaks of grey, and her pink dress was faded. It was sad, because she was only 32.

He ran a hand through his silver hair. He was an albino. If he was in sunlight too long he could be in danger. But it was odd. For some reason his eyes needed no protection from the light. Usually albinos must wear thick glasses, but his eyes were different. The doctor said he had some kind of healing factor, that hadn't fully come out yet. He knew what it meant. He was a PSI. His mom was too. But if the public found out, it would be disastrous. At least he didn't have any other powers.

His mom stood up, pushing the wooden chair out and not bothering to push it back in. She lifted her paper plate, and walked over to the yellow trashcan near the small kitchen sink. Their apartment had no room. The kitchen could barely fit one person, and it was stretch to have a small round table in its tight corners.

She tossed the paper plate away and walked out quickly. Jesse finished up and did the same. It would be a while till they could afford another steak like that.

He walked into the living room. If you could call it that. There was an old fashion TV, and a couch. That's it. No reading lamp, no coffee table. No space. Nothing. Which is rather annoying.

Jesse plopped himself on the couch, took the remote from in between the cushions, and flipped on the television. They only got five channels. Local access and whatnot.

The third channel was the Fourside News. Bill Franks was the head anchorman. A large shouldered man with nice hair and nice looks. Jesse hated his guts.

So as the man babbled his useless drool about crap happening in an even crappier city, his mom actually talked to Jesse.

"Your dad called the other day." She said, not looking at him.

Jesse suddenly felt a pain in his stomach. His dad had abandoned them two years ago. They never heard from him. Ever.

"What did he say?" Jesse asked quickly. His mom's reply was bleak.

"Nothing. It said on the caller I.D. it was him. He hung up right after I said hello. I'm sorry Jesse, I know how much you miss him."

Jesse's expression went from surprised to a mixture of puzzled and angered. Miss him? Yeah, sure. After he skipped out on them and forced his mom to work at a dinky old diner that had bad pay. But somewhere in his core, he truly did miss him.

He slowly pushed himself into the cushions of the couch. He was tired, and he had school tomorrow. Last day. He was going to celebrate by setting all of his work on fire in a big pile. It was going to be awesome.

But then his thoughts returned to his dad. Maybe he would call him back. Either to yell at him or beg him to come home, he didn't know which one.

Sleep soon enveloped him. He would forget all his troubles as he dreamed.

* * *

Outside, in the cold stale air, two figures stood on the windowsill five stories above the city ground. They watched the boy and his mother sleep. They were gathering info. On how to kill them.

The two figures were as tall as an adult male. One was a shiny golden, and the other was faded silver. The golden one was taller, and was obviously in charge. These two figures were odd, for they had no hair or faces, or skin. They were robotic creatures, with red glass for eyes.

The silver one lifted a fingerless hand and turned a miniscule dial near its glass eyes. Its vision suddenly zoomed in to the boy. It began to see all sorts of data as a cross hair appeared on the red glass and spun around the boy.

He began to repeat the data to its superior in a cold computer voice. "SUBJECT CHILD MALE. PSI READINGS MAJOR. CATAGORIZED AS ALBINO. THREAT LEVEL… B+."

The gold one now spoke in an even colder voice. Yet his was oddly more human. "And the female? Is she still a threat?"

The silver one turned the dial once more. He zoomed in on Jesse's mother, and the cross hair spun rapidly. "MAJOR THREAT LEVEL. PSI READINGS OFF THE CHART. DANGER RATING A+."

Suddenly the woman's eyes flew open on the couch. She stared out the window, directly at the two figures. She was not alarmed though. Actually, a smirk appeared on her face. She had been expected them for a long time.

She pulled out her arms from behind her back, and held a frying pan.


	3. A missing one

**Auron the Brave here. I apoligize for my lack of updates, but I have gotten renewed interest in this story. please review. Excelsior! Wait, no. I would never say that.**

* * *

In the vast dreamscape world

A boy hungers for one more

As hope and religion are now combined

For seen have the four chosen ones been

Oblong in their incubation in the vitals chambers of your heart

Awaken

Jesse

Awaken!

Jesse felt a horrible pain enveloped him. A burning sensation. A stab wound.

He awoke. His eyes opened quickly, and he stood of the coach in fright. Quickly Jesse grabbed for his chest. No stab wound. He was dreaming, and was freezing. He left the living room window open. Even though it was the middle of summer, this high up it was still cold. His apartment on the 25th floor wasn't exactly warm.

He looked around. It was pitch black, the only light coming from the fake pink lights outside, the color of decay and rose colored sludge, born from the neon lights of a city that has given itself to graffiti and anarchism.

He walked over to his only window, next to the old television. The floor creaked as he stepped, the old scrap wood was at least 100 years old. He leaned outside, looking down on the city.

An occasional car illuminated the dreary street below with its headlights, but other then that no one moved. The city was in a standstill.

He looked at his shirt. The navy blue shirt had the words "Live Twice for Tomorrow" spray-painted onto it. His favorite band. A punk band from Summers, who inspired his anarchist rage and hate for the world.

He pulled his head back in, and shut the window. It screamed as it was shut. "Damn I hate this apartment." He whispered under his breath.

Then, for some reason, he decided to check on his mother. He walked through small, compact living space, into his mothers' room. His room was right next to hers, but his actually had a door.

He entered the door less dark space. Something was wrong. He knew his mothers soft breathing when she slept. He ran forward, and turned on the lamp next to her small cot. The dimly light revealed that she was gone.

Jesse, for the first time since his father left, was frightened out of his mind.

He ran into the kitchen, searching for some kind of note or something. Nothing.

Then he realized. The window! Maybe she was kidnapped!

Now you must realize Jesse has a large imagination. Very large. So his mind began to race. Did somebody actually kidnap her? Did she abandon him? Even though he was 14 years old, he was still scared. He would have to find her himself. He couldn't call the police. They were corrupt. No, it had to be him.

He grabbed his shoes, a pair of punk-style shoes with several cartoon skulls and anarchy symbols drawn all over them, and quickly slipped them on. Then, he went out the door and into the night.


End file.
